


The Sin of Pride

by BrilliantLady



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Bisexual Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV), Chloe Decker Being a Detective, Chloe Decker Finds Out, Episode s02e04: Lady Parts, F/M, Gay Pride, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Murder, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Investigations, Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV) Devil Reveal, POV Chloe Decker, Religious Cults, Worried Chloe Decker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2020-06-29 05:55:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19823932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrilliantLady/pseuds/BrilliantLady
Summary: Every strange behavior Chloe’s seen, and all the odd things she’s heard Lucifer and his brother say, are enough to help her put the pieces of the puzzle together. She’s got it all figured out now… Lucifer was raised in a cult.





	1. Resolve

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warnings: References to real-world cults, murder, suicide, and violent and sexual child abuse. Main characters are all unharmed (not counting canonical events). Please feel welcome to leave a review asking questions if you’d like more information before considering reading this fic.
> 
> Thank you to Endless for helping me with continuity checks.

“Good morning, Detective!” Lucifer chirped brightly, sauntering up to Chloe’s desk and perching on a corner of it. “Any nasty murders for us to solve? I’m up for a bit of fun today, if you need me.”

He leaned in closer to her, eyes gleaming with flirtatious desire as he added, “In fact, if you have any _needs_ at all that are going unfulfilled I’d be happy to-”

“What are you wearing?” Chloe asked distractedly, ignoring his flirtation.

“Oh! I love that game. But I usually play it over the phone,” he said, with a wicked laugh. “I’m wearing a black Armani suit, with an eggplant waistcoat and a white Egyptian cotton shirt that is so _soft_ against my skin. Do you want me to–”

Chloe raised a hand in the air to cut him off. “Stop, just stop. Please. I meant the pin on your lapel.”

“Oh this?” Lucifer asked, surprised. He leaned back out of her personal space as he fingered the tri-colored button in question with its bright stripes of fuchsia, lavender, and blue. “A Pride pin. Bisexual pride to be precise. I don’t like to wear the plain rainbow – it reminds me too much of Dad.”

“Your dad is gay?” Chloe asked in surprise, furrowing her brow.

Lucifer snorted and laughed. “Don’t be ridiculous. No, you know, the rainbow? In your silly bible? Dad’s sign in the heavens saying, ‘Sorry I drowned the earth, whoops, lost my temper, promise I won’t do it again’?”

“Ah, of course. Your dad was very religious, then?”

“Obviously. He _defined_ religion for all of us. What he said was law.”

Chloe nodded. Lately she’d been starting to piece together a picture of what Lucifer’s background was like, underneath all the metaphors or self-delusion. She was never quite sure how much of his own spiel he believed, but either way it was clearly a coping mechanism rooted in trauma.

“Back to more pleasant topics, shall we? LA Pride is coming up – it is June already you know, how time does fly on earth,” Lucifer chattered, “and I do like to show my colors. Pride is one of my favorite sins, after all! Even being cast out of heaven hasn’t stopped that. What a lovely celebration of freedom it is, don’t you think?”

“You’re bisexual, then? Sorry, I know you flirt with men sometimes, but I didn’t know that was serious; I thought it was just for cases. I had assumed with all the women at Lux…” Chloe trailed off, with an embarrassed look. Lucifer didn’t seem at all fazed by either her assumption or her stumbling apology.

“Well, I do prefer women, but I also take men to my bed from time to time, when the mood strikes me and a man is particularly handsome or in dire need of my attentions.”

Chloe nodded distractedly. “Hmm.”

Lucifer grinned toothily at her. “Can’t stop thinking about it now, can you? Are you imagining me in bed with a handsome muscular fellow with buttocks so firm you could bounce a quarter off them? You know if you feel like a Devil’s Threesome I’d be happy to oblige, emphasis on the Devil. Preferably not with Detective Douche though.”

“No. I’m not having sex with you, Lucifer!”

“You could just watch, if you prefer,” he purred.

“ _No_.”

Lucifer sighed. “Such a shame. I’ll find out what you truly desire one of these days, Detective. Well, what _were_ you thinking of, then?”

“Your father, actually.” Though her mind _might_ have wandered a little to what kind of men were Lucifer’s type, she’d never admit it.

Lucifer’s face screwed up in disgust. “Well, now my mood’s definitely been ruined. Whatever are you thinking about him for when you _should_ have been thinking lascivious forbidden thoughts about yours truly?”

Chloe hesitated about whether to be honest with him or not and decided in the end to just go for it. But… carefully. “I was wondering… did your father throw you out of home-”

“Heaven.”

“-alright, did your father throw you out of _heaven_ for being bisexual? The sin of ‘pride’? Did he… punish you for that?”

With a sigh, Lucifer’s face fell into serious lines devoid of flirtation that she usually only saw when he was truly upset about a case or some personal crisis. “You won’t believe me. No-one ever does. So honestly, what’s the point in discussing it?”

Chloe winced. Had he told people of abuse, and not been believed? So many times that he hid the truth in crazy metaphors so that being disbelieved wouldn’t sting so much? “I’m sorry if I don’t always believe what you tell me. But, I’ll do my best to listen. You can… use whatever words you like to talk about it. Whatever makes you comfortable.”

“Very well, Detective,” Lucifer said, fiddling with his cufflinks. “I don’t expect you _will_ believe me, but I am an honest devil, and if you truly want to hear about my past today…?”

“I do.”

“Then I shall do my best to oblige. So, where to begin? Well, some say I was cast out for pride, and there is some fairness to that tale, but at its heart it was more that dear old Dad didn’t like being questioned. My sin of ‘pride’ was daring to think my opinion was as valuable as his – I wasn’t _humble_ enough for him. I asked him why those mortals outside of heaven got freedoms that we – his own children – were denied. They could live, and love, and choose their own lives, whereas we had to live only as commanded – his will was our will. Why couldn’t _I_ have free will too? Why couldn’t all of us? Weren’t we as good as they were? Was it pride to think for a moment that my desires mattered too? To rebel against the constant humility and obedience he required of us, thinking himself so far above us all that he need not explain himself or his dictates?” His voice deepened to low, angry tones the longer he talked.

“It doesn’t seem too prideful to me, for what that’s worth. So, you questioned him, and he kicked you out for rebelling against him. You weren’t allowed to love who you wanted? Let me guess - you had to dress a special way and act only in accordance with religious law?”

“In accordance with Dad’s will, correct. How did you know about the robes? Did you catch Amenadiel in a dress? I’ve tried to tell him not to do that, but he does lapse from time to time. Ordinary modern clothes are still a bit of a struggle for him. He thinks hoodies are the cutting edge of fashion just because he sees a lot of young men with the same skin tone as himself wearing them. _Honestly_.”

“It’s common for cult leaders to dictate what their followers should wear. It was just a guess, but it seemed in keeping a rigid, authoritarian religious community. Am I right?”

Lucifer smiled suddenly, a flash of brilliant white teeth. “Oh, dear old Dad a _cult leader_ , oh yes, that does fit, doesn’t it? I’ve never thought of him like that, but I suppose he is, isn’t he? Yes, obey all his rules, never question him, don’t act outside your sphere, love only him and no-one else, for he is a jealous god, after all. It is rather like a human cult, isn’t it? Only, one you daren’t rebel against or leave because the punishment is immeasurably more extreme.”

Chloe kept a carefully straight face, thanks to years of police work. _Love only him_. Oh my god, was Lucifer sexually abused? She wanted to ask but feared the answer.

 _Easy, Chloe. Don’t scare him off while he’s opening up,_ she told herself.

“But you’re free of that now. So is your mum, correct?” Chloe asked gently. “She’s in town, now?”

“She literally had to suffer through years in hell, but yes, I suppose she is free of him now, though she’s still obsessed with him. They fought a lot before she left. I can’t forgive her for her part in things, though, not like she wants me to. She just _stood there_ and said _nothing_ while I was cast into hell!”

“And uh… how does that make you feel? Having to interact with her again? After she stood by while your father punished you? Does she try to justify what she did, or has she apologized?”

Lucifer’s anger subsided at the question, and a little grin snuck out. “Why Detective, I feel like I’m in a therapy session with Linda. Perhaps your office area here needs a sofa added to it.”

“Sorry. I’m just… trying to be… you know. A friend.”

“Well, it’s appreciated,” he said, with a tilted nod of his head. “And obviously it is very difficult. She’s tried to apologize, in her own way. She says she wants to reconnect with all her children. I suppose she’s trying to both apologize _and_ justify her behavior. She says that father initially wanted to kill me, but she talked him down to just punishing me. Casting me out.”

Chloe exerted some effort to maintain her calm and sympathetic expression. “Your father wanted to kill you?”

“Apparently. Obliterate me from existence. It sounds plausible, I suppose. He certainly had no qualms about torturing me now, did he? He didn’t care about my fall, about how I burnt. About my years of suffering.”

Chloe leaned forwards and rested a hand on his knee. “Lucifer. If you’re ready, we can press charges. There might be some Statute of Limitations issues with some things but probably not everything. We can get justice for whatever your father did to you, or to others. Just tell me his name and where he lives.”

“God. In Heaven,” Lucifer said, ticking the answers off on his fingers. “I don’t think you’ll find he cares much for the judgement of mortal police and the criminal justice system on his actions, Detective. Though I do appreciate the thought. It’s very kind of you.”

Chloe shut her eyes for a moment as she took a deep breath, biting back her instinctive urge to argue with him. Talking to abuse victims needed a gentle touch. Prior to the Palmetto mess which had isolated her from her fellow detectives, Detective Jones in the Juvenile Division had once sobbed to her over a beer at ‘The Paddock’ about how she’d spent the day interviewing a bruised eight-year-old girl named Emily who insisted that her father hadn’t ever touched her, only the imaginary girl ‘Sally’. Perhaps Lucifer had Dissociative Identity Disorder borne of trauma too, like psychologists had eventually concluded the young girl had developed.

This needed a gentle touch. “Are there… any other names he goes by? Ones he used earlier in his life, perhaps?”

“Jehovah? Yahweh, Allah? I am that I am? Take your pick. You _do_ remember we’re talking about God, right?”

“Yes, yes, I remember. And he lives…?”

“In the Silver City.”

Chloe nodded with a touch of relief. That sounded… almost like an actual place. Non-biblical. It was probably going to be the best clue she’d get. “An isolated community?”

“You can’t really _get_ more isolated. Even Hell is easier to get to.”

“No phones? Electricity?”

“Of course not! Angels don’t need such things.”

“Of course not,” Chloe agreed easily. “Can outsiders visit?”

“Not unless they want to die. Michael guards the gates against intruders. I’d rather you didn’t die just to visit, Detective. Not until your time is up. No rush.”

Chloe nodded slowly, blonde ponytail bobbing gently. “I’ll try not to die.”

Lucifer smiled at her again. “Good. Well, this has been a very interesting chat. Are you finally starting to believe me, Detective?”

“More and more. I’m doing the best I can to understand everything,” Chloe promised.

“Well I appreciate the effort, even if you’re not quite there yet. Perhaps we can have a chat about your own family next time? Perhaps over dinner?”

“Maybe. Don’t push your luck, buster,” she said with a grin.

“And what do you think of it all? What I’ve told you.” He was trying to look casual, but she saw the glint of insecurity in his eyes.

Chloe reached out and took his hands, clasping them between her own. “I think your dad was an asshole, and you were right to leave. You deserve the chance to live your own life, one that’s not centered around some narcissistic, abusive, holier-than-thou patriarch. You were right to rebel, and I’m proud of you for leaving to live your own life and not some narrow religious existence he’d dictated to you.”

Lucifer’s eyes looked suddenly shiny. “You… you really think God’s an asshole? I wasn’t wrong to demand free will for myself and my siblings?”

“Yes. ‘God’ is an asshole, and you’re better off without him. Even if it meant you had to suffer through hell for a while before you managed to escape to LA.”

“I… thank you. Just… thank you,” Lucifer said, looking into her eyes with such a look of pure _wonder_ at her support that it broke her heart. She was so glad she’d tried working with his metaphors instead of trying to challenge or ignore them like she usually did. “I want you to know that-”

Lieutenant Monroe interrupted them at what felt like the worst possible moment.

“Enough flirting, you two. You’ve got a case now, Decker. Looks like a drug dealer killed in a mob hit,” Monroe said, handing Chloe a thin file. “Lopez says the vic’s still wearing a solid gold chain, so initial forensics suggests it’s not just a robbery or drug deal gone wrong. A turf war, perhaps, or he might have crossed the mob and paid the price. Look into it.”

Case assigned, the Lieutenant walked off back to her office. She was a busy woman these days, with the sweet plum of a job of Chief of Police almost within her sights.

Lucifer looked filled with righteous fury on the victim’s behalf. “Right, Detective. Let’s go and find justice for this poor man whose mob family punished him as a lesson for others not to disobey the Godfather’s outrageous dictates about how he should live his life!”

Chloe shook her head. It was always about him, wasn’t it? “Come on, Lucifer. We’ve got a killer to find and punish,” she said gently.

“Yes, we _do_ ,” he agreed, his rich voice underlaid with menacing promise. His lips stretched to bare teeth in one of his more disturbing toothy smiles.

Poor man. The Lieutenant was wrong. Chloe didn’t have a case. She had _two_ cases now. The drug dealer’s murder, and Lucifer’s past. 


	2. Research

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: This chapter contains references to real-world instances of child abuse, rape, murder, and suicide, in the context of a discussion of religious cults.

Maze, due to the sheer convenience of her having recently moved in to live with Chloe, was the first possible informant Chloe approached in her quest to uncover more clues to Lucifer’s true background. Her not-casual-enough interview didn’t go as smoothly as she’d hoped though, as Maze flatly refused to answer half her questions, and was unhelpful on the rest.

“Do you know what his father’s name is?”

“God.”

“ _Maze_. Please, work with me here.”

Maze shrugged and rolled her eyes. “What can I tell you? That’s all Lucifer ever calls him, except for ‘Dad’. Oh, and an exciting range of swear words in various languages, when he’s in a rage. Do you want me to list those for you?”

Chloe sighed.

“Alright, yeah, he does that, doesn’t he? So, what _can_ you tell me? How did his father hurt him? Can you tell me anything about what really happened in his past that made him run to LA and set up a new life?”

“Look, Chloe, I can’t… tell you what you want to hear. I can’t – I _won’t_ – tell you everything. Lucifer and I might have our issues, but I won’t betray his personal secrets without his say so. What I _can_ tell you is that when I first met Lucifer – _many_ years ago now – he was a mess. Broken bones and burnt to a crisp. I can still _smell_ it – the char and the blood. His father really did a number on him, and I and Lucifer’s other… friends he took under his wings and made a home for will _never_ forgive the bastard for that. If Lucifer said the word, we’d storm the gates of the Silver City and try to kill God for treating his son like that. Even though we’d lose.”

“ _You_ would lose?”

Maze made a disgusted face. “Yeah. I hate to admit it, but we’d be outnumbered, and outpowered. His dad has quite the army. Trained his kids himself.”

“So, about his mum–“

Maze whipped a knife out of nowhere and flipped it in the air. She didn’t point it at Chloe, but the air was nonetheless suddenly filled with a sense of menace. “No. No more questions. And take my advice – stay away from that crazy bitch. She’s as bad as her ex. Lucifer should’ve kicked her to the curb, not talked to her. You think I’m dangerous? To be painfully honest, I’m only a threat to her when she’s chained up, and you’d be nothing but a gnat to her, gun or no gun. Stay. Away.”

-000-

Chloe settled down a little awkwardly on Linda’s striped couch. She hadn’t been in therapy since some sessions mandated by the LAPD after she’d shot Malcolm, and talking to a new friend about another friend in a professional capacity felt odd. Luckily for her, Linda picked up easily on her discomfort and started things off.

“So, Lucifer phoned me and confirmed that he’s comfortable with both you and him seeing me as clients, and that he has no issues with you discussing any concerns you might have about his background. He would prefer I don’t reveal some confidential details from his sessions, but he doesn’t feel there’s a conflict of interest in me seeing both of you. Frankly, he’s delighted that you want to talk about him with someone,” she finished, with a cheery, knowing smile.

“Yes, that’s basically what he told me too,” Chloe said, leaving out the part where he’d purred on the phone to her that he wouldn’t mind if all three of them got _even closer_ , if she was interested in that. Frankly, his innuendos had communicated more about Linda’s possible sexual proclivities than she was comfortable knowing, especially second-hand. Then again, it could just be his boundless sexual confidence and optimism at play.

“That said,” Linda continued. “As both a therapist and a friend, while I’m more than happy to see you today I’d feel more comfortable referring you to someone else for any ongoing sessions, unless at some point you and Lucifer want joint counselling sessions.”

“What?” Chloe blinked.

“As a couple. Hypothetically,” Linda clarified. “As work partners or otherwise.”

“There’s no ‘otherwise’,” Chloe said, shaking her head. While she secretly found him attractive, yes and rather charming and funny too at times, he just didn’t have the stability she needed in a partner.

“That’s fine,” Linda soothed, “I’m just speaking of future possibilities, not your current status. Many women find him very… tempting.” She had a distracted look in her eyes for a moment, before she blinked and refocused on Chloe. “So, what did you want to discuss today?”

Chloe took a deep breath and launched straight into a long-winded recital of her speculations and fears about Lucifer’s background of abuse and cultic involvement, and how his traumatic past had impacted on his mental state. Linda listened with professional focus and interjected with leading questions asking Chloe how she felt about it all at appropriate moments. She didn’t tell Chloe anything she didn’t already know, but Chloe found that talking about it all to a sympathetic ear felt cathartic, like a burden had been temporarily lifted from her shoulders.

“So, I’m going to keep researching what I can, but right feel now like I’ve hit a bit of a dead end,” Chloe concluded. “I don’t have a lot of leads. Lucifer’s not ready to open up, which is really frustrating at times-”

“Absolutely!” Linda agreed fervently.

“-but I don’t want to push him into talking about matters he’s not comfortable coming clean on. I’m his friend, not his therapist like you are, and if he’s not ready I don’t want to… you know… make things worse. What if I traumatized him more? Or drove him away by being too prying or pushy?” she fretted.

“Those are reasonable and valid concerns. From what you’ve said there’s an additional problem you’ve faced in the past, I believe, in that you’ve usually tried to talk to him in public areas – like at the station or at a crime scene – where he may not feel he has an appropriate level of privacy to discuss highly personal issues with full disclosure.”

Chloe nodded slowly. “Could be. So, you think he might open up more in private? I should try talking to him off-duty?”

“It might help. After all, there’s a reason therapists provide a private room for sessions, rather than expecting people to open up about sexual abuse or marital difficulties in public. This is a quiet, safe space, where clients know they’ll be listened to without judgement from others.”

“Of course, thanks, that makes a lot of sense.”

“I’ve found Lucifer usually takes some time to settle down and relax at the start of every session before he’s ready to talk about whatever is currently bothering him. He needs to relax into his safe space,” Linda said, gesturing around the room expansively with a sweep of her hands.

“That said, he still has a strong preference for talking through his issues with a heavy use of metaphors – I don’t think I’m breaching his confidentiality by telling you that.”

“Not in the slightest,” Chloe agreed, with a wry smile. “It’s standard for him. Do you think I should challenge that pretense, or not? If I’m trying to get him to open up in private?”

“You should probably go with the flow and see how things go, however, I should say that in my experience it’s usually best to let him phrase things how he wishes and be supportive of healing from the suffering _beneath_ the metaphor. His feelings, and his pain, are very real, Chloe. He just struggles to express his issues openly. Healing takes time. He might feel uncomfortable breaking that façade – or possibly breaking down altogether – in front of you. You’re both a valued friend and a professional partner, and whether he admits it or not he’s just an ordinary man, and men are often uncomfortable expressing their emotions or any kind of weaknesses in front of both pretty women and work colleagues. You are both.”

“Are you kidding me?” Chloe asked, with an incredulous laugh. “I don’t think I’ve ever met someone who wears his heart on his sleeve as much as Lucifer! The only filter in between his brain and his mouth is one that turns everything into religious metaphors.”

Linda smiled. “Yes, it’s true that in _many_ cases Lucifer is comfortable with his emotions – more so than many people are – but not the full range of emotions. Anger, lust, excitement, boredom; those he is unhesitating in sharing. Other emotions are more difficult for him to acknowledge; betrayal, grief, affection, and fear. He is uncomfortable with admitting to vulnerability of any sort, Chloe. Part of him wants to be above all that, not a vulnerable human that people can hurt again but second only to God in being untouchable. Someone who’s still strong despite being hurt in the past.”

Chloe thought about it. She wasn’t completely convinced, but it was true that Lucifer was much more comfortable being angry at killers than sad for their victims. He didn’t do grief well. He didn't even typically want to admit to _physical_ vulnerability, let alone emotional.

“Hmm. It seems to me that you work with Lucifer’s metaphors rather than challenging him. I’ve usually tended to ignore them, if I’m not arguing with him about them. But you're saying that I should try working with them more?” Chloe asked.

“Yes, I understand how difficult it can be, but that would be my advice for now.”

Chloe nodded. “So… I don’t suppose you’d be willing to share any information about Lucifer’s mum or dad? Contact details? Anything I could use to get in contact with them?”

Linda shook her head. “I’m afraid not; not without a warrant. But, off the record, I couldn’t help you anyway. I don’t know much more than you do in that regard.”

Chloe slumped back with a sigh.

Linda eyed her defeated posture, and a sly look crossed her face as she said slowly, “What I _could_ do is refer you to a fellow therapist who took up residence this year in an office across the hall. Room 103.”

“Someone to see professionally? Look, I don’t actually think-” Chloe started, but Linda interrupted her with a meaningful stare with raised eyebrows.

“Not exactly. He doesn’t have the qualifications he professes to have, but perhaps you should talk to him anyway. He’s a very tall, handsome, African-American man. Bald. I think he could help you.”

Chloe perked up. “He wouldn’t happen to have a very short, trim goatee, would he? Around six foot two in height, charming, American accent with a voice as smooth as dark chocolate?”

“As a matter of fact, I think Dr. Canaan _does_ match that description. Here’s his number,” she said, tilting her head with an approving, conspiratorial smile. “Though I must warn you, while he’s a pleasant and charming man he is not in fact a qualified therapist and has a tendency to lie about his past. A bit of a biblical obsession too, though not as pronounced as Lucifer’s. He might not be any easier to get straight answers out of than Lucifer himself.”

She scribbled his contact details down on a yellow post-it note and passed it over to Chloe.

“Thanks, I appreciate this. I don’t suppose you have details on where their mum is staying in town? Off the record?” she wheedled.

Linda shook her head. “Nothing useful that isn’t confidential. I suspect she visits Lux occasionally, so if you’re lucky you might catch her there. That’s all I can really do to help you. My information about… Dr. Canaan isn’t from Lucifer’s sessions, so I don’t feel I’m infringing on any confidentiality issues there.”

Chloe resolutely didn’t impugn the professional ethics of someone who’d previously accepted sexual favors in lieu of payment for therapy sessions, despite a strong temptation to do so. “It’s enough. Thanks, Linda.”

“You’re welcome. I’m worried about him too. Hopefully, knowing he has friends ready to support him in coming clean about his past will help him let his barriers down and open up at last, so I truly wish you all the best.”

-000-

She tried fishing for background information from Dr. Canaan aka Amenadiel next, who’d agreed to meet her at a café to generally chat and catch up. While he initially _seemed_ more straightforward than Maze, she suspected more than a few lies were mixed in with the truth. Even leaving aside Linda’s aspersions, Amenadiel just seemed generally shifty. He set off her radar as being the kind of man who wasn’t accustomed to lying and hadn’t the years of practice needed to make it truly convincing. Some things came out a little _too_ smoothly, while other things, simple questions like how old he was compared to Lucifer, he hesitated and prevaricated over in a way that people just _didn’t_ unless they were lying through their teeth and you’d surprised them with your question. Perhaps Amenadiel really didn’t know their age difference. He might have been adopted, or the cult he was raised in with Lucifer didn’t bother to celebrate birthdays, like how Jehovah’s Witnesses sneered at the idea as being too pagan. It was another fragmentary clue, and she made a mental note to add it to her growing file later.

Chloe was getting the feeling that Lucifer had grown up surrounded by lies, amidst the self-serving preaching of a cult leader. Perhaps that’s why he was now so insistent on always telling the truth. At least… as he saw it. A point of pride in going against his family’s ways.

“Do you have more brothers and sisters who might visit LA? I think Lucifer said once it’s a large family,” she asked leadingly, after softening him up with some small talk. “How many siblings do you have?”

“Quite a few,” Amenadiel said, with a smile. No-one said that. No-one _needed_ to dodge answering a basic question like that unless they had something to hide.

She lured him into naming a few, even though she couldn’t pin him down into giving a number. She wondered how many wives ‘God’ had allotted himself as a divine right, to have so many children that it was hard to keep track of them. Mass adoptions were another option, of course.

 _Uriel. Michael. Azrael. Gabriel. Remiel. Castiel._ _Zonaquel. Achiriel._ She was noticing a distinct angel-themed naming pattern. Some real angel names, some imitations, all ending with ‘-el’.

“What did you call Lucifer when you were kids? His birth name?”

Amenadiel hesitated. _Gotcha_ , Chloe thought. _I knew that ‘Lucifer Morningstar’ was a fake name; his records don’t go back far enough. But confirmation never hurts. Come on, tell me his real name. Say it._

“Lucifer. We just called him Lucifer, or Luci.”

“No, come on, I know that wasn’t his name when he was a child. He told me that himself,” Chloe lied. “He just wouldn’t tell me the name your father gave him.”

“Did he? Oh,” Amenadiel said, looking surprised. “Well, he hates his old name now. I could tell you, I suppose, but you mustn’t use it.”

“I promise,” she said gravely.

“Samael,” Amenadiel said quietly. “That was his name once, the one father gave him when he was… born. A beautiful name, isn’t it? But he cast it off when he left home.”

 _Truth, mostly_ , Chloe judged. She’d run Lucifer’s old name – and all his siblings’ names – through the databases when she next had a chance in the precinct. Maybe something would turn up, maybe not. She was pretty sure the cult was way off-grid and didn’t hold truck with nasty intrusive government paperwork infringing on their religious freedoms.

“So, tell me about Silver City, where you and Lucifer grew up,” she asked, smiling at him over her cup of coffee while the café around them buzzed with activity.

“It’s a beautiful town. The white buildings shine in the light, and the gardens are vibrantly green and full of flowers and fruit. Best place in the whole universe, but I suppose everyone thinks that about their home, don’t they?” he said, with a charming smile. It didn’t entrance almost every woman – and half the men – in a 20-foot radius like Lucifer’s smile did, but it had a practiced charisma that reminded her of his brother, all the same. It was almost like he exuded a subtle aura of benevolence, of honest goodness. She didn’t trust it. Liars often wore the most honest, charming faces of all. She’d met too many domestic abusers in her time as a cop who were nigh-universally beloved or admired by their friends.

“Where is it, exactly? I’d love to visit some time.”

“Up high, quite a high elevation in the mountains. It’s not really open to visitors, though.”

“A gated community? What State is it in? It’s in the US, right?”

Amenadiel nodded. “Yes, a gated community. For security reasons. Say, this coffee is great, isn’t it?”

Chloe smiled, and let him steer the conversation away from questions he didn’t want to answer, as they chatted about the café’s food, drink, and ambience. She wanted it to feel like a conversation, not an interrogation, so she took a break before reintroducing the topic of his shared past with Lucifer.

“What’s your father like? He runs the town you grew up in, right?”

“Strict, but fair,” Amenadiel said, after a moment’s thought. “I suppose you could say he’s like the town mayor. Everyone loves him, and he loves the whole community. He looks after everyone and makes sure they have a place and a purpose. Keeps everything in order, and peaceful.”

Chloe kept her smile fixed. _Sure, everyone loves him. Or else_.

“Even Lucifer?” she asked leadingly. “And his mum? I heard she’s in town, that she’s separated from your dad. Any hope for reconciliation there between those two and your dad, do you think?”

“Well… family tensions are inevitable. But if they just apologized to him for arguing with him so much…”

“Everything would be fine again?”

“Yes!” Amenadiel smiled. “I’m sure he’d forgive them.”

“Forgive them for what, exactly?”

“For… fighting. Disrespecting community laws. I can’t really go into details. It’s a family matter.”

“And you don’t talk about family matters with outsiders, right? Including the police.”

“No, not really. I hope you understand.”

Chloe nodded, and took another sip of coffee. “Oh, I do. I certainly do. Lucifer would be a handful for any parent, no doubt. Not like you. I get the feeling you were the good son.”

Amenadiel was encouraged by her Understanding Good Cop routine and began rambling about how if Lucifer would just leave LA and go home where he belonged, everything would be fine.

“Our father has a purpose for everyone, and Lucifer just wouldn’t stop _questioning_ his plans,” Amenadiel said. “He still won’t. As if he knows _better_ than Father!” He shook his head like the sheer thought of doubting his father was unbelievable, incomprehensible.

“Arrogant,” Chloe said, implying with her sympathetic smile that she was talking about Lucifer, and not Amenadiel or that dickhead cult leader ‘God’.

“Very much so!”

“Tell me,” Chloe said, leaning in. “Do you pray a lot? I’d love to hear all about your theology. I’m in a questioning kind of place at the moment… I’m feeling a bit lost.”

Amenadiel lost almost all his nervous hesitation and brightened up like rambling about religion to a potential convert was the absolute highlight of his day.

 _Cult. For sure._ She’d figure out who, and where. It would just take time. She sat back and listened to Amenadiel preach earnestly about faith, trust in God, and letting go of guilt. She hated him a little more with every word she heard and smiled and nodded as she mentally filed away clues for profiling the cult. _The bible has errors and misinterprets God’s will. Churches aren’t as important as prayer and faith. Trust in God’s plan for you. Or perhaps he means ‘God’s’ plan, damn the man. Suffering means nothing in the service of God. Stay pure in spirit and resist temptation._

She also noticed a tendency, just here and there, for Amenadiel to slip up and mix up his father and God, just like Lucifer did. He was just better able to hide it than Lucifer; willing to lie. Talking about how he’d made mistakes in his own life recently but he trusted that Fath… Our Heavenly Father would forgive him in time, if he had faith. She pretended she didn’t notice his hasty correction.

“And what do you think God’s plan for Lucifer is?” she asked, as innocently as she could.

“To come home and seek forgiveness. God has a plan for him, and while it may not be as glamorous as his… hedonistic life here in Los Angeles, it is a life with _purpose_. He has responsibilities he’s been neglecting. Do you think… maybe you could persuade him, Chloe? He doesn’t listen to me anymore. I think perhaps he never really did.”

“I will certainly talk to him about it, but I can’t promise anything,” she said. “His father hurt him quite badly, didn’t he? Physically. When he threw him out. Don’t you think it would be difficult to return to someone who did that?”

Amenadiel paused, and Chloe studied his face. Was that a trace of guilt she saw? She knew Amenadiel could be violent too – had he been involved in Lucifer’s punishments? She remembered the black eye he’d given Lucifer last year, that Lucifer had shrugged off as being a ‘little squabble with my bro’. No big deal, his brother had just beaten him up, that’s all.

“Well… yes… but that was many years ago.”

“Water under the bridge!” Chloe said, adding a false laugh that tinkled with bright, genuine-sounding tones. Her mother had been right, damn her. Acting classes _were_ a lifelong investment. “If he hadn’t rebelled against your father’s rulings and had been more obedient, it never would have happened. So, it’s his own fault he got hurt, really.”

“Exactly!” Amenadiel said, relieved.

Chloe wanted _so_ badly to punch him.

-000-

“I don’t think I can read any more about what Thériault did to followers in his cult,” Chloe admitted quietly, late at night in the station’s conference room. “I might throw up. Dear god, he _nailed children to trees_ as punishment. And that’s not even the _worst_ thing he did. Doing weird surgery on a kid’s back to give him ‘wings’ is definitely possible for this sick bastard. Several wives and twenty-six kids, so the family size is a match. But the names aren’t even close to a match…”

“Drop that one for now then,” Dan said sympathetically. “’Ant Hill Kids’ doesn’t sound like the right name for Lucifer’s group, anyway. And the leader called himself ‘Moses’, not ‘God’.”

“Make sure you get some counselling if you need it,” Detective Jones said. “This stuff is tough to deal with, even second hand.”

Chloe had brought Detective Rachel Jones on board her private off-the-record investigation, in the strictest confidence. Jones had been willing to put aside all past animosity to do what she could to help investigate the handsome and popular consultant’s possible background of childhood cultic abuse. Child abuse wasn’t Chloe’s area of policing expertise, and she really wanted someone with more experience in the Juvenile Division who could hopefully give them extra insights. She’d considered adding Ella to their research team but had decided they didn’t really need her forensic expertise right now and was worried Ella would give something away to Lucifer in an outburst of sympathy.

“I still think his ‘wings’ were a tattoo,” Jones added. “Or possibly a brand.”

“Probably,” Chloe agreed, “but if any religious nutjob was going to try sewing swan wings or artificial angel wings onto a person with DIY surgery, trust me, it’d be this monster.”

“Didn’t I read in your notes that Lucifer checked your back for wings, once? Worried that his family had sent you to kill him? Implicitly the ‘wings’ have to be something you’d be able to hide beneath a shirt. So, a brand or tattoo,” Jones argued.

“Yeah… yeah, you’re right,” Chloe agreed. “Still, he did own a set of literal cosplay wings his father gave him, too.”

“Perhaps they were only worn for special rituals,” Jones suggested.

“Could be the ‘Children of God’,” Dan said, eyes scanning a website on his laptop. “They call themselves ‘The Family International’ now. Isolated communes, sex cult, pedophiliac rape, incest, and kidnapping. Being raped as a kid would mess you up, so I’m kind of hoping it’s not that, for his sake. Berg – the cult leader – died in ’94, but the church only really fell apart in 2009. Geez. I thought that stuff was all over back in the 70’s. It went on for _ages_.” He printed up some summaries and handed them out to the two women.

“Sexual abuse in childhood would match the profile we’ve built for him,” Jones volunteered, scrubbing a hand tiredly through her thick jet-black curls. They’d been at this for hours and everyone was getting worn out, both physically and emotionally. Coffee could only do so much. “Many people – though not all – with a background of suffering childhood sexual abuse will often have difficulties forming successful, meaningful relationships in adulthood. His promiscuity could stem from a devaluing of himself as a person, or detachment from his body, or cultic brainwashing. Something similar to what the ‘Children of God’ believe about their ‘Law of Love’ – that he was religiously obligated to give up his body to serve others’ desires. That kind of conditioning can be hard to overcome, especially if it started when he was a child.

“However, I think another very likely possibility to consider is that after sexual assault, or an extended period of abuse, while some people shut down and don’t want to be touched some go in totally the opposite direction. Hypersexuality in adulthood can arise naturally, but it can also be a response to childhood sexual abuse. It’s a way of regaining a feeling of power after being assaulted. It can be one symptom of Complex Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder or C-PTSD.”

“Ow. Geez, he’s all about fulfilling people’s desires, isn’t he?” Chloe said, scrunching her eyes shut as tears threatened to spill out. “Not his own. He’s fine with sex he controls, but not with intimacy or even sexual advances that surprise him, those that he doesn’t initiate. He’s oddly comfortable with public nudity, too.”

She sighed sadly. “Lucifer hates his dad, but I don’t think his mum actively abused him. He’s said in the past that she just stood and watched while he was punished, though. Her role seems to have been neglect, abandonment, and standing by passively while he was punished. I’m thinking a childhood of domestic violence compounded by possible sexual abuse, culminating in him being violently kicked out of the cult when he discovered he was bisexual and wanted to act on his desires. A complete religious rebellion too – branding himself as the ultimate rebel against God.”

“Rejected of previous religious faith, and self-blame, would both fit C-PTSD,” Jones said. Chloe thought Jones was a bit stuck on her own theory, but maybe she had something there.

“Oh god,” Dan murmured. “The people in this cult were sick. It would explain so much. Do you think I remind him of his father? Too authoritarian? Do you think me being a father is triggering for him?”

“I don’t know,” Chloe replied, with a sympathetic shake of her head. “I _do_ know he’s very awkward with Trixie, though. He clearly finds her hugs incredibly uncomfortable, which is odd given how tactile he is with adults. I think it’s distressing for him to see a child giving affection to an adult. Perhaps part of him can’t help but wonder…”

Dan’s face twisted up in a disturbed grimace. “It would explain why he flinches and pushes her away. It’s at least twice as bad compare to his level of discomfort with Ella’s hugs.” He huffed a deep sigh as he shut his eyes and got himself back under control and turned back to his laptop. “How about his mum, any leads there?”

“Not yet. Whoever she is, she doesn’t go by either ‘Morningstar’ or ‘Canaan’ in any publicly accessible records I’ve found – which frankly is not a shock since we know Lucifer is a fake name – and I didn’t get anything out of Maze or his brother. Amenadiel just refused to say anything and kept changing the topic. Maze warned me off talking to her; said she was crazy and dangerous. And Lucifer’s recent phase of worrying every new murder we encountered was his mum’s fault is both concerning and telling. Maze’s assessment might not be too far off, given Lucifer’s level of concern. Could be his standard weird projection, though.”

“The Children of God didn’t have an angelic naming pattern,” Jones said distractedly, leafing through the printouts. “Nor did their leader literally consider himself God. He was another ‘Moses’, just like that bastard Thériault. More of a prophet. I’m also not sure it matches up with the story of being thrown out of a gated community,” Jones said. “They’d be more likely to imprison him, try to keep him there.”

“He does talk about being stuck in hell,” Chloe said.

“That metaphor’s too difficult to interpret, honestly. There’s so many possible interpretations.”

“The time frame’s roughly right for if he left in 2009,” Dan argued. “We know his records in LA only go back six years. A year or two to reinvent himself as very much _not_ a child of God any longer, save a bit of money, then up he pops in LA ready to live a new life.”

“Look, it _could_ fit,” Jones said. “I’m just saying we should keep our options open. The breakup of the cult was pretty calm, in the end. The new leader just kind of let everyone go out into the world. Lucifer’s narrative is pretty consistent about being literally thrown out. With prejudice.”

“Yeah, yeah, I guess you’re right. I’m not sure they’re militarized enough, either. I think we need to focus on looking for gun-toting nutbar Christians, not just pedo rapist Christians, or sicko abusers playing doctor,” Chloe said, after reading through the notes. “Maze said he has an army that even she’s scared of.”

“She actually said ‘scared’?” Dan asked incredulously.

“Well… no. But she thought she’d lose in a fight. That really says something, you know? She’s got some crazy ninja skills.”

“Sure does!” agreed Dan. “I uh… remember your report on how she took out a dozen armed gang members, bare-handed. So yeah, the cult has to have at least that many militants.”

“I just wish we could find a good match for ‘Silver City’,” Chloe said, pushing away her own laptop further on the table with a frustrated huff. “I get the feeling it might be a commune name rather than an actual town name. That’s a lot harder to run searches on. It’s not like there’s a file of registrations of commune names with handy descriptions of how the buildings are all white-washed.”

“Still no luck, huh?” Jones said sympathetically.

“Yes and no. I’ve spent hours on this now, but it’s not really panning out. There’s thirteen towns by that name in the US, and three more that use it as a nickname, though I think we can probably rule out Las Vegas. There’s also one in Canada, one in Australia, and two places in the UK that use it as a nickname. No strong associations with cultic activity matching our profile at any of them. There’s even a Silver City here in California, but if it’s any of them I think Silver City, New Mexico looks like the most likely possibility. Some say it’s quite the hippy haven, and it has a lot of communes within a twenty-five-mile radius. Mountainous area, too.”

After some more quiet time researching and reading, Dan passed Chloe a new printout summarizing a cult to review and add to their growing file. “How about this one? Gun-toting violent Christian cultists, as requested. ‘Order of the Solar Temple’. In 1995 sixteen members were found burned to death on a plateau in the French Alps; high altitude match there. Murder and a couple of suicides. They also killed temple members in 1994 in Canada and Switzerland. I think the first incident could be a possible match for Lucifer leaving a cult under violent circumstances.”

“Why do you think it’s the one in the Alps, rather than the earlier ones?” Jones asked. “What’s different?”

“They burnt the bodies. The murders in 1994 were gunshot wounds, drugs, and asphyxiation. In the latter incident the leaders drugged their followers, then burnt them. Kids, too. Lucifer likes to talk about how he burnt when he ‘fell’.”

“I think the ‘falling’ is literal,” Chloe said. “Maze said he had a lot of broken bones. I think she found him, afterwards.”

Dan nodded thoughtfully. “Could be. On fire, running for your life from gunfire in the mountains while drugged. Would be easy to take a tumble off a cliff; maybe they left him for dead. Maze won’t say anything more?”

“Nope. Flatly refuses. She’s protective of him. Most of her statements are hidden in Lucifer’s metaphors too.”

“I’d be protective too I expect, if I knew someone who’d been abused and didn’t want to talk about it,” Dan said, then looked thoughtful. “It’s a big time gap. 1995 is a good long while before Lucifer surfaced here. Next time you talk to him, see if you can narrow down _when_ he was ‘cast out of heaven’.”

“Will do. Amenadiel said it’d been years, but we already know it’s six at least, so that doesn’t help much.”

Chloe flicked through the new printout and navigated on her laptop to read up on the Order of the Solar Temple, while Dan kept tiredly searching for more possibilities. “Hey, get this,” she said. “The Solar Temple leaders arranged the burnt bodies in the _shape of a star_ before committing suicide.”

Dan whistled. “Could be part of where he gets that Morningstar fixation.”

“The guru’s dead. Joseph di Mambro. I don’t see anything here about him going by ‘God’, or anything useful about his children, though. No unaccounted-for missing persons.”

“Did they wear robes? Don’t forget we’re looking for robes,” Jones reminded them. “It’s part of why my gut’s telling me it’s not the ‘Children of God’, even though the name and pattern of abuse matches.”

“It’s a yes on the robes. White robes and cloaks for ceremonies,” Dan confirmed, “and get this, the leader said he was the reincarnation of Jesus, and he called his son Emmanuelle. Cult members also stabbed a couple to death who tried to leave, and their three-month-old child that Mambro dubbed the Antichrist. So there’s a strong anti-Lucifer feel to the cult, with the leader thinking he’s God.”

“People are _scum_ ,” Chloe said bitterly.

“He faked miracles,” Jones said excitedly. “Lucifer says his hypnosis skills are a gift from God, right? Maybe his father taught him some tricks.”

They dove into reading up thoroughly on their latest possibility, which sounded quite promising.

“Best match yet, I think,” Chloe said tiredly, after they’d all read up on the cult some more. “Thanks, Dan. Let’s break for tonight. We can chase up incident reports and missing persons records for that case on Monday and see if we can find any links between the Order of the Solar Temple and any of the far-too-many Silver Cities in the world, or our ‘angel names’. Of course, it might be a branch that never got caught.”

“Good luck talking to Lucifer on Friday,” Jones said, as she grabbed her leather satchel and tucked away some notes. “Remember, be careful when discussing your conversation with Linda, if you do so at all. If the topic comes up, reassure him that she didn’t breach client-patient confidentiality. Lucifer needs to know he has a safe place to turn to. Threatening that relationship will do more harm than good, even with the best intentions. It’s quite possible we’re past the statute of limitations for child abuse, or that there might not be anyone alive to press charges against. Or, they may be jailed already. Don’t compromise his healing journey. That he’s strong enough to turn to a therapist instead of purely burying his feelings in sex and drugs is a huge step forward, and one to be celebrated, not threatened.”

“You do think it’s alright to _give_ her information, though? I already shared a lot of stuff I’m worried about.”

Jones sighed. “Yes, since it was just speculation and your own feelings about a friend. It’s not as clear-cut as if he was a child, so be careful what you share with her in the future. Yes, we may have uncovered information his therapist could use. But he’s an adult and sensitive about people lying, so it might be best to keep everything in confidence as much as possible. I’m really torn on this. I know he’s your friend, and an adult, but you should know that in abuse cases with kids we _never_ share information this early in a preliminary investigation. You know we don’t have evidence, Decker, not a solid case. We just have snippets of facts we’re stitching together like Frankenstein’s monster. We’ve got a scarred and recovering man, and a lot of speculation.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I know. I just… want to help him. Find out what happened. I want to help Linda work with him better too – wouldn’t his therapy go better if she knew more of the facts?”

Jones gave her an awkward comforting pat on the shoulder. “I understand. Look, if we’re dealing with D.I.D. resulting from childhood abuse as per your theory, or C-PTSD which is my best guess as a layperson, his therapist’s probably already aware of both those possibilities, and probably knows more than she’s told you about. I personally think it’s C-PTSD; he has a lot of symptoms that match. Along with hypersexuality he clearly has issues like identity issues and dissociation, problems with emotional regulation, impulses to self-injury, and the way he views his abuser as being all-powerful, even supernaturally so. You might want to read up on it, Decker.

“On the other hand, yes, more information could help his therapist lead sessions in the right direction so that Lucifer opens up to raise the topic of his past himself. It could help her avoid triggers, too. I know Lucifer said he was fine with you talking to her – that was smart to get his permission first to do so, by the way – but you must be careful to avoid anything he’d feel was a betrayal of trust, of you lying to him.”

Chloe huffed. “So, what do you think I should do, then? Talk to Linda again in the future or not? What’s the best approach here, moving forward?”

Jones rested her dark hand on her chin, tapping a finger against her lips gently as she thought. “Hmm. Well, as much transparency as possible is good. If you feel you’ve got something solid, something vitally important that she needs to know about, you might want to explicitly ask him if it’s alright to share it with her. Or frame it as seeking help for yourself because of how upset you are, rather than dobbing on him to his therapist, but be either way keep being honest about your plans to talk about his history with her. Confirm what speculation you can with him too, if you can.”

Chloe nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

“Remember to stay calm and accepting if he confides in you further at any point. Let him know you support him, and that sharing the truth was the right thing to do. You must make it totally clear that you don’t blame him for anything that happened in his past. Rejection or denial from someone an abused person opens up to can be soul-crushing,” she warned, her voice low and intense. “Be gentle with him. He might flirt a lot, but I suspect he doesn’t let many people truly get close to him in any way that matters. You’re one of the few.”

“I’ll remember. Thanks, Jones.”

“Call me Rachel,” she offered, with a tired smile. “And Decker – Chloe – it might be a bit late now, but for what it’s worth I’m sorry about Palmetto. You were right, we were wrong; that’s obvious now. I’m sorry I was one of the ones giving you a hard time about it all.”

Dan shuffled paperwork into a tidy semblance of order, looking distinctly uncomfortable as the two women shook hands and made up.

-000-

Chloe breezed past the long line of patrons hoping to get into Lux that evening. They certainly were a colorful lot tonight, with a lot of drag queens in sequined dresses and anime-colored wigs, a few busty young women giggling in their matching suits and fedoras (who looked like they were playing dress-up rather than making a serious attempt at cross-dressing), a lot of men and women in tight-fitting rainbow-themed shirts and dresses, and a decent handful in ordinary but flashy nightclub wear. She went to move past the bouncer as usual, but a firm hand was raised unexpectedly in her path.

“Sorry ma’am, end of the line’s back there.”

Chloe blinked at him. It was a bulky new guy she didn’t recognize, with a blond crew-cut. He was easily six-foot-tall, with muscles straining against the tight fit of what was clearly a brand-new suit, with a rainbow lapel pin.

“Oh, I’m on a list. Lucifer said I’m welcome any time. Decker.”

The bouncer gave her a dismissive look but obligingly dug a sheet of folded paper out of his suit pocket. “Look, just because he’s nice to people he’s slept with doesn’t mean you can just assume…” he trailed off, and his eyes suddenly widened in panic as he stared at the unfolded list in his hands.

“ _The Detective_?” he blurted out. “Look, I uh… I’m terribly sorry, Detective Decker. I’m… I’ve only been here a week and a half, but you still wouldn’t believe the number of women… But of course not _you_. You please… go ahead, your majesty. And if you wouldn’t mind not mentioning this to Lucifer, I’d _really_ appreciate it. I love this job.”

“’Your majesty’?” Chloe asked, with a snort of laughter and a curious smile. It was kind of fun watching someone a foot taller than her and twice her weight in sheer muscle suddenly look so terrified of her. So much for his bad-ass attitude he’d put on show when he’d blocked her from entering the club.

“Patrick said Lucifer’s made it _very_ clear to all the staff that you’re to be treated like a queen if they don’t want to be fired. I just… forgot your surname for a moment. Sorry. Everyone calls you ‘The Detective’.”

“Well, I guess it’s not surprising given Lucifer’s habit of doing that. Don’t worry, I won’t say anything to him. You’re just doing your job.”

“Thank you!” the bouncer said, hurriedly waving her past the silky black rope barrier. “No cover charge. Obviously.”

Lucifer was singing at the piano about dreams, hell, and hiding the truth when Chloe made it into Lux at last. As she shouldered her way through the rainbow-clad crowd towards him he was just starting to belt out the chorus, watched by an enraptured ring of patrons around him. Some looked joyously entranced as they swayed and bobbed in time to the music, others watched hungrily like they’d make out with him on top of the piano if given the slightest opportunity, while a few stood silently with tears running down their faces. His presence was undeniably magnetic for many, even if it didn’t affect her like it did others.

“When you feel my heat, look into my eyes, it's where my demons hide, it's where my demons hide! Don't get too close, it's dark inside, it’s where my demons hide, it's where my demons hide!” he sang passionately. His eyes looked haunted by the memory of old pain. You could see and hear that he’d suffered, that it wasn’t just part of his performance, that he was expressing his hidden pain through song.

 _He’s making the song all about himself_ , she thought, with a wry smile. _Typical Lucifer. Projecting his pain through metaphor is all he knows how to do. Poor man._

Chloe saw the instant he caught sight of her, because his eyes locked with hers and it felt like the last verse was being sung straight to her.

“…It's woven in my soul, I need to let you go. Your eyes they shine so bright, I want to save their light. I can't escape this now, unless you show me how!”

 _He needs help. He wants help, he just doesn’t know how to ask for it_ , she thought sadly. _Maybe he’s been let down too many times already. I’m glad he’s seeing Linda, at least. Not everyone’s brave enough to face their demons in therapy. I know I hate doing it._

He sang the chorus for the crowd one last time before pausing to accept his accolades and knock back some undoubtedly expensive whiskey like it was water.

Chloe leaned to one side to see past a lithe young man in a classic and classy little black dress with matching heels. “How many songs to go in your set?” she asked loudly, over the chatter of the crowd around them.

“Just one! Unless it’s urgent, Detective? Lives at stake, the wicked to be caught and punished post-haste?”

“No, it’s fine, I can wait.”

“I hope your drive over was safe? No more suspicious car accidents or other potential Acts of God impeding your journey?”

She gave him a reassuring smile. He’d been fretting over her recent accident almost as much as Trixie had. She wondered if it had given him nightmares too. “Perfectly safe, I’m fine, Lucifer. Don’t worry so much.”

“Excellent! Well, I’ll join you soon, then.”

Chloe squeezed through the crowd up to the bar as Lucifer started crooning ‘True Colors’ by Cyndi Lauper. She asked the bartender for a glass of red wine, since she was off-duty and Maze was watching Trixie for the evening. He was a fit young man with short brown hair and tattooed arms who introduced himself as Patrick, and who seemed to know who she was even before her own introduction.

“Can I get the good stuff? And for free?” she added, with a cheeky grin.

“Yes, ma’am. Let’s see, I’ve got a Penfolds Grange 2013? A nice dry red – will that suit?”

 _Whoa_. She’d been buying her drinks all this time, but all she’d had to do was ask to get them free? Next night out with her new ‘Tribe’ should definitely be at Lux.

Chloe sipped her wine – a rather intense Shiraz with fruity notes – and looked around. “Colorful crowd tonight. Pride theme?”

“You got it!” Patrick agreed cheerfully. “Half price cover entry all week if you’re cross-dressing, trans, or rainbow-clad. It’s been busy! It hasn’t been this packed since our last ‘Leather and Lace’ evening.”

“How can you be sure if someone’s cross-dressing or not? Some people here are dressed pretty normally. For Lux, that is.”

Patrick shrugged. “Honesty system. We’ve been told to give people the benefit of the doubt. It’s busy and most people are clearly dressing to the theme, so if we lose a bit of money from the cover charges because some cis assholes are pretending to be cross-dressing when they’re not, it’s not going to be too much of a loss.”

“It’s a nice wine,” she said conversationally to Patrick, who seemed eager to stick close to her while the other bartender – a young man with his dark hair up in a bun – hustled around busily serving drinks to other thirsty patrons. “How much does it sell for?”

“Seven hundred a bottle. We don’t usually sell it by the glass.”

Chloe spluttered on her mouthful but didn’t spit the wine out. That would be like… wasting thirty dollars, or something.

“God, that’s expensive. Sorry. Did he really tell you all to treat me like a queen?” she asked. “Seriously?”

“Yup. He’s a pretty upfront and literal guy, too. I’m not going to second guess anything he says.”

“Upfront and literal? Even though he’s always talking about hell and being the devil?”

Patrick’s eyes slid away evasively to the left, breaking eye contact. “Uh… yeah. Uh… let me think of an example. Let’s see… there was a bouncer last year who thought the boss’ ‘No means no’ policy for Lux didn’t apply when the offender was a celebrity. He assumed that he should look the other way while some famous actor was feeling up one of the dancers even though she was trying to slap his hands away. Maze took him outside and… well… let’s just say he learnt the error of his ways, and that the boss was _very_ serious about the consequences of failing to protect the other staff.”

“She didn’t…?” Chloe asked, then trailed off, not sure she wanted to know the answer.

“Probably not as bad as you’re thinking. But still, the guy was fired on the spot, and I heard he was limping badly and had to sit down to pee for weeks… let’s just leave it at that, hey? If the boss makes a promise, he keeps it – it’s a point of pride with him. I’m not going to be someone who stops Lucifer from keeping a promise. He says treat you like a queen, so that’s what I’ll do. Your majesty.”

Chloe winced as she pondered what Maze would do to a man who tried to sexually abuse a woman under her protection. “What happened to the actor?”

“Dunno. But he owes the boss a favor now.”

“Wow. Sounds like he got off lightly.”

Patrick shrugged noncommittally, like he didn’t agree but didn’t want to argue with her.

“I feel like I should leave you a tip?”

Patrick laughed. “It’s cool if you don’t, I’m paid well. _Really_ well. He values loyal staff here; turnover can be high at times so those of us who stick around are all the more appreciated. If you want to do me a favor tell the boss man how well I looked after you tonight.” He winked saucily at her as he started mixing up a cocktail for an insistently impatient customer next to her.

“…True colors are beautiful, like a rainbow,” Lucifer finished crooning, before standing up and blowing kisses to his audience.

“Don’t be afraid to shine! Bring that light out and be proud of who you are!” he yelled, and Lux’s crowd roared and whistled its approval.

Chloe drank the last of her wine as she watched Lucifer charm his way through the masses. An arm around a woman’s waist here as he whispered in her ear, a peck on a man’s cheek there, as he slowly moved towards her. It was taking him a while – everyone seemed to want him to stop and say a word to them, drawn like moths to a flame. Eventually he made it through the adoring masses.

“Detective, I’m all yours at last,” Lucifer said, sliding onto a stool next to her. “I hope Patrick’s been looking after you?”

“He’s been great. Treated me like a queen with excellent free wine courtesy of Lux, in fact. I hope that’s alright?”

Patrick gave her a covert thumbs up as Lucifer grinned and laughed. “Wonderful! Nothing’s too good for my partner. Is this a social call? Business or pleasure?”

“Pleasure,” she said, before rolling her eyes at his wickedly delighted smile and bright eyes. She’d walked right into that one. “Not like that! I just came to talk. To catch up with my friend.”

Chloe thought he looked pleased as punch with that reply, despite it throwing a temporary wet blanket on his nigh-unstoppable ardor, and she returned his smile this time.

“Shall we head upstairs then, if you want to chat? It’s a bit noisy down here tonight.”

“Uh, sure!”

He tentatively reached out to rest a hand on the small of her back as they walked and grinned flirtatiously when she didn’t object. She should’ve known he couldn’t help flirting with her for long. Secretly, she didn’t really mind too much, and even found it flattering. He’d proven to be consistently careful about consent, and she trusted he wouldn’t take things any further than she was comfortable with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter Lucifer performs ["Demons" by Imagine Dragons](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mWRsgZuwf_8), and ["True Colors" by Cyndi Lauper](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LPn0KFlbqX8).


	3. Revelations

“I wanted to talk with you, if it’s not too personal. If it’s alright.”

“About what, exactly?” Lucifer asked, pouring himself a glass of amber whiskey from his private bar. “Drink?”

“I just had one, thanks.”

His eyebrows raised as if such paltry grounds for refusal were truly mystifying.

“My liver isn’t as robust as yours, Lucifer, and I’d like to stay sober for this talk.”

He nodded understandingly. “True. We can’t all have devilish constitutions. Lime and soda, then? I believe that’s popular with American teetotalers.”

“Sounds good, thanks.”

Drinks in hand, they wandered over to his couch. She perched awkwardly, while he lounged back on the soft leather with his left arm spread across the back of the couch, looking comfortable and disturbingly seductive as he sipped his drink, sparkling eyes intent on her every fidgeting move.

“Is it alright if I ask you… personal questions? About your past?” she double-checked.

“Certainly. What are you worried about, Detective? There’s no need to be nervous. My life’s an open book, and if you want to hear about my sexual exploits you should know that shyness is not one of my many sins. Ask away!” he said, with an encouraging wave of his hand.

“Um. So… I know you came to Los Angeles six years ago, is that correct?”

“Correct. I’d visited before, of course. Lovely city. But that’s when I came to stay, and opened up Lux.”

“Is that when you renamed yourself?”

He froze a little, and she wondered if she’d gone too far, but he shrugged. “No. I did that millennia before, when I was thrown out of heaven. I chose ‘Morningstar’ as my last name when I most recently arrived in LA, though. It’s really just an alternate first name, but humans do love their surnames, so I had to pick one. I certainly didn’t want to follow traditional old patterns and pick ‘Goddson’ or something appalling like that. I thought about ‘Daystar’ and ‘Dawnson’, but they didn’t have the same ring, and ‘King’ was out since I’d just abdicated.”

“Mm hmm. So, you didn’t have a last name before coming to LA? Canaan, for instance?”

“No. That’s just my brother thinking he’s clever. He had to pick something for himself, too. Angels – and demons – don’t need last names, Detective.”

She nodded. _Check. No last names in the cult. Not for religious purposes, anyway._

“If you don’t mind me asking, exactly how many years ago did you leave Silver City?”

He shrugged. “An endless eternity of years, Detective. Millennia. I don’t like to think about it, and I wouldn’t even know how to begin trying to count it, to be honest with you, especially since time runs differently in Hell. It was before the Flood, if that helps?”

“Not really,” she said, with a wry smile. “But it’s alright if you can’t tell me.”

“You’re very curious this evening,” he said, taking a sip of whiskey. “Any questions about heaven you want answered? Who ended up there, who went down to me?”

“No, I just want to talk about you.”

His face shifted into pleased lines with a broad smile. “My favorite topic! Ask me anything.”

She snorted with laughter.

“So, I know your dad set a lot of rules for you. Did you have to have to wear robes all the time, or was that just for special ceremonies?”

“Well, we were all naked at first.”

She winced. Dan had been soft on Lucifer when they’d gathered to talk about him lately. The idea that he may very well have been sexually abused as a child had hit him hard – made him a lot more sympathetic about tolerating Lucifer’s flighty playboy ways. This latest bit of information felt like a painful confirmation of their theory.

“Dad came up with the idea of clothes eventually. It’s been robes ever since then, unless someone’s visiting earth. Then we’re expected to blend in and not draw attention to ourselves. Hide our true natures.”

“Silver City started out like a nudist colony?”

“Well yes, shame hadn’t been invented yet. That’s a human failing, really. Angels aren’t ashamed of their bodies.”

“So that’s why you’re so comfortable nude? You spent years naked?”

“Precisely! I might have fallen, but I’m still the creature dear old Dad fashioned, in many respects, much though I hate to admit it. We’re simply not built to be ashamed.”

She sighed, but he just grinned. “I _love_ this conversation, Detective. You know, I had a partner once who experimented to see what would embarrass me, sexually. He got me to wear this-”

She held up a hand. “I kind of do want to know, but if you could spare me the details and just sum up instead, I’d really appreciate it.”

“Spoilsport. Well, long story short, I don’t mind public sex even in front of large crowds, streaking at sporting events is titillating, sex toys are fun, studded leather isn’t as comfortable as it looks but I’m happy to wear it anyway on special occasions, and I’m not into doing animals even if someone asks nicely.”

“Oh,” Chloe said faintly.

“They can’t meaningfully consent, Detective. It’s just not right,” he explained earnestly.

“You don’t need to convince me, Lucifer. I’m all on board with a ‘no bestiality’ rule.”

“There we go! We’re already negotiating kinks. It’s good to get this stuff sorted out early, I say.” He looked very pleased with himself, like a cat that had caught a particularly delightful and plump canary.

“Consent is very important to you,” she said slowly.

“Free will,” he said, with a casual shrug. “I prefer to top rather than sub, for the record.”

“Lucifer… I know this might be a difficult question for you to answer but… Did your father ever abuse you, sexually?”

Lucifer spluttered on his whiskey, eyes wide. “Eww… no!”

“Not any kind of sexual touching?” she persisted.

“No!”

He looked honestly appalled and outraged at the thought, which gave her heart, but she wanted to check other possibilities, to be sure.

“Did he encourage your siblings or other adults to touch-”

Lucifer interrupted her with an abruptly raised hand, palm out. “Please, spare my mind any more horrific images that will take a year’s worth of drugs and alcohol to blank out, and let me reassure you on the matter. Neither he, nor mum, nor any of my siblings indulged in any form of sexual contact with me. Dad was only in favor of creating life with his wife. All of his angels were expected to be completely asexual. Sex was only for you mortals on earth, not for those of us in the Silver City.”

“Asexual.”

“Yes! As in, ‘They will neither marry nor be given in marriage; they will be like the angels in heaven’, as my alleged half-brother reportedly said.”

“Jesus isn’t–” Chloe said, before biting off her words. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t confront him about his metaphors, but she’d slipped up. Luckily, he didn’t seem to mind.

“No, he wasn’t actually the son of God. He was just a nice Jewish carpenter and activist who wanted the rabbis to relax some of their interpretations of divine law. A reformist. He never said he was the son of God, you know, people just said it for him and eventually he gave up arguing about it. Poor fellow. I really did tempt him in the desert, you know. Fun times! Let’s just say there’s a reason he spent forty days and nights there. He turned out to be gayer than a Friends of Dorothy meeting.”

Lucifer’s story was so outrageous that she couldn’t help but laugh.

“So, just to get this straight, your father expected you all to live sexless lives? Complete abstinence?”

“That’s right.”

“Did that work?”

“Not for me,” Lucifer replied, with a wink. “Some might say I’m overcompensating just a tad these days, but I think it’s rather a fun way to rebel, don’t you?”

“I’ve seen worse.”

“Amenadiel’s disgusted by it, but then, he’s still a loyal son. I’m trying to get him to loosen up, but it’s tough work. He’s slept with one woman – sort of – since he came here, but even that’s led to a lot of self-recriminations. They broke up.”

“That’s good, that you’re helping him. He’s… a lot more messed up than I realized. The way he talked about your father, and you… I wanted to punch him,” she admitted.

“Did you really? How delightful! You should give in to that desire next time,” Lucifer said.

“I’m a cop, Lucifer. I can’t go around assaulting someone just because they’re being a brainwashed moron.”

He laughed. “Pity. But I suppose if you hit everyone in this city who’s an idiot, you’ll never get any rest.”

Her eyes sparkled as she nodded her agreement. “It’d be a full-time job.”

“So… is that what you wanted to talk to me about?” Lucifer asked. “General chatter about my past? Or was there something in particular you wanted this evening? Some naughty desire you’re trying to work your way up to discussing?” He rested his left hand on his chain, then arched his neck as he trailed his fingertips down the front of his neck, then ran his palm down his chest over his smooth cotton shirt. His languorous gesture finally finished with his hand flat on his thigh, thumb rubbing back and forth gently on his tailored trousers, dangerously close to brushing his groin.

Chloe realized she’d been staring and glanced away, hoping she wasn’t blushing. “No, I didn’t… not that. That is, there was something I wanted to say. I wanted you to know that I’ve been piecing things together, figuring out your past. And that it’s okay. If you wanted to talk about it, openly. That I won’t judge you.”

She looked back at him again and was reassured to find the seductive look was gone, at least for now. He looked… vulnerable.

“You… believe? You know about my real past?” he asked, wary and cautious.

“Yes. I know you’ve been through a lot. Abuse from your father you didn’t deserve. Being thrown out of Silver City, out of heaven. I’ve seen hell in your eyes,” Chloe said, thinking of the song he’d performed earlier that evening, and the pain she’d glimpsed beneath his façade of the carefree playboy. “I can see how you’ve suffered. And I want you to know that I’m not scared or horrified of anything you might say. About yourself, or your father, or any of it. I’m your friend, Lucifer, and knowing more about your hellish past won’t change that.”

“You’ve seen… my eyes?” Lucifer said, his voice choked with pain and his dark eyes wide with disbelief. “You’re not scared of me? Of who I am? What I’ve done? You don’t want to run away in terror?”

Chloe shook her head slowly. “No. “

Lucifer gazed at her searchingly. “You don’t hate me for what I’ve done? They tell a lot of lies about me, they say I’m a monster. Responsible for all the evil in the world. That’s not true – there’s nothing I value more than free will. And I don’t lie – I only tell the truth, even if no-one believes me.”

“I know. I know you do. You always have, as best you’re able to,” she reassured, resting a hand gently on his shoulder. “People are responsible for their own actions. You’re not to blame for the evil things people do. Or the evil things God does, or anything he forced you to do. That’s on him, not you. It’s not your fault.”

He looked poleaxed, utterly stunned. They stayed silent for a moment, while she rubbed gentle circles on his upper back. Not venturing lower – she knew he hated being touched where his scars were and didn’t want to risk triggering him in a vulnerable moment.

Eventually he spoke again, testingly. Warily. “I _have_ hurt people. It was my job; punish the guilty.” He wouldn’t appreciate the comparison, but he reminded her a bit of a dog she’d seen that had been abused by its owner for too long. Craving approval and acceptance with a wagging tail but expecting another kick; cringing and ready to flinch away at any moment.

“Your father made you do it though, didn’t he? You didn’t _want_ to do it, and it was under duress?”

“Yes, he gave me no choice. I had to rule hell or be destroyed by a legion of demons. I… I left when I could. I said it was a holiday, but really, I don’t want to go back at all. I don’t want to be there, and I don’t want to be punished again like when I fell.”

“That was smart, saying it was just a holiday. Did that help you get out safely at last?”

He nodded. “I’ve done it before. Previously I went back whenever I’d been gone too long, or when my siblings tracked me down. So, my family assumed it would be the same this time. Amenadiel still hopes it will be – he was sent to retrieve me.”

“Amenadiel can go to hell,” Chloe said fiercely, startling a laugh out of Lucifer.

“Why Detective! Such passion, how delightful.”

Chloe shrugged, with a touch of embarrassment. “I don’t like how he’s hurt you, or how he’s pressuring you to go back.”

“You and me both,” Lucifer agree, sounding serious.

A hush fell for a moment, more awkward than comfortable, before Lucifer spoke up again. “Any more questions for me, Detective? I know you must have some. Come now, don’t be shy, I’m an open book this evening.”

“Yes, if you don’t mind. Uh, you’ve said you were his punisher, God’s enforcer. Did you… kill people for him? Innocents?”

“No, never. Angels are forbidden from killing humans. It’s one of the few rules he set for us that I think is worth keeping. I was really only hands-on in punishing those who were truly despicable. Those who abused the free will of others. Murderers. Rapists. Those who enslaved their fellow man.”

“It’s a good rule, not killing people. Your dad’s not the only one to come up with that one.”

“True.”

“Did your… father ever kill anyone?”

“Drowned them.”

“O…kay,” she said slowly.

“The Flood,” Lucifer explained. “It was real. He did that himself, rather than outsourcing to his children. There were still smaller floods afterwards, but those were all Mum’s fault. So were most of the plagues.”

“Alright,” she said.

 _Don’t challenge him_ , she warned herself. _It’s not the time for that. Just change the topic._

“So, do you still think of yourself as an angel? One of God’s children?”

“No… yes. Sometimes, I suppose. A fallen one. I hated my wings. I got rid of them. Do you blame me for that?”

Chloe shook her head sympathetically, hand still moving soothingly on his upper back. “No. It was your right to remove them if you didn’t want them. It’s your body. I’m only sorry that you hurt yourself so badly in doing so.”

He didn’t seem to know what to do about her comforting pats but was slowly starting to relax and lean into her hand. She knew he was uncomfortable with touch outside of a sexual context, so was trying to go slowly and carefully – no sudden moves. Surprise hugs were hard for him to cope with.

Lucifer buried his face in his hands. “I still can’t believe it – that you’re not scared of me. Everyone else is so terrified when they see who I really am. But I should have known you’d be different, that you wouldn’t reject me. You’ve always been different… special. Immune to my charms. You make me vulnerable, and that frightens me sometimes. Sometimes it’s good… exciting, even. But also… terrifying.”

“It’s alright to feel that way,” Chloe soothed. “But I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. You don’t frighten me. It’s safe to be yourself around me, you don’t need to put on an act unless that helps you feel more comfortable. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

“Alright, I trust you,” Lucifer said, and he raised his head from his hands.

His eyes burned red with flames, and it felt suddenly like she was staring into an abyss of suffering, falling into his dark pupils like they were black holes into eternity, surrounded by fire that would _never end_.

“Detective? Are you alright? Detective?”


	4. Reframing

“You’re… Lucifer. Actually Lucifer,” Chloe said, squeezing her eyes shut, and opening them again for another glimpse at his face. She hadn’t imagined it; his eyes still looked like a vision of fiery doom. She looked away and took a deep breath. There was no doubt in her mind, now. Those eyes weren’t just fiery, they were a glimpse into literal Hell. God, she’d been using a _metaphor_. She had been so damn _proud_ of piecing all the clues about Lucifer’s past together into a coherent theory. She’d been so blind!

“Well, yes. But you knew that already, Detective,” Lucifer said, sounding honestly puzzled. “Is it my devil face? Too much? It’s too much, isn’t it.”

 _I was speaking in metaphors!_ she wanted to scream. **_Your_** _metaphors!_

Glancing warily at him, Chloe saw him staring at his perfectly ordinary hands in disbelief, a bit like someone strung out on LSD who suddenly couldn’t believe how strange their skin looked. He started patting at his cheeks next, stroking the skin in confusion. “Well this is embarrassing. I’ve lost my devil face. I seem to have a bit of a performance issue this evening, and that’s something I never thought I’d hear myself say. Well, there was this one time, when I had taken enough drugs to kill a herd of elephants, with a bottle of vodka as a chaser. I only had enough stamina for four rounds, can you believe it?”

“No…” Chloe said weakly. Her mind was spinning, thinking of all the things she’d seen. His unbelievable strength, his speed, all the suspiciously unlocked doors, and how he terrified or entranced people with a look. How he’d been shot. By Jimmy. By Malcolm. Had he died? How many times had he almost died?

 _You didn’t die after all. That makes one of us_.

_I thought he killed you. Oh, he did. I got better._

Memories of things he’d said to her rang in her mind with a new weight; difficult truths she’d discounted as jokes and evasions, or a way for him to cope with trauma.

Jones’ stern warning to be gentle and accepting no matter what echoed in her mind, too. What would the Devil do if she rejected him? Rage? Cry? Did being the _actual_ Devil change the fact that he was a broken, hurting man? That he’d been abused and rejected by his father? Change the fact that he was her partner? Her friend?

“Well your faith in my sexual prowess is certainly comforting!” Lucifer laughed. He patted his face again, then screwed it up tight like he had a headache, then felt the skin once more. “Hmm. Still no luck. Not to worry, a temporary condition I’m sure. Many of my abilities tend to go on the fritz with you around, Detective. It’s always worked on suspects just fine. It’s probably just that I’m trying to show it directly to _you_.”

“I’ve seen it before,” she said faintly.

“Oh? When was that?” he asked, his nightmarish eyes still full of an inferno of flames.

She closed her eyes as she answered, “Right before I shot your leg. I saw your reflection. Just for a moment. Red skin like… raw muscle… but all burnt and…”

 _Don’t freak out in front of him_ , she told herself sternly. _Don’t think about him being the Devil, or Heaven and Hell being real. Panic later. When he’s not looking. Stay calm. Pretend lives depend on it... do lives depend on it?_

“Oh yes!” he said, sounding bright and chipper like he’d just gotten out of bed to delightedly find a cup of perfectly brewed hot coffee unexpectedly waiting for him. “You did believe me for a moment back then, didn’t you? I remember. Well, that’s good. That’s out of the way then.”

“Uh huh…”

“I kept the bullet, you know. As a keepsake. That’s alright, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Detective?” he asked, sounding a little nervous. “Honestly, is it too much? Should I… stop? With my eyes?”

“If you don’t mind, just for now. I… I admit I’m not really used to it. Yet.”

There was a pause, and then she heard him say from somewhere close, “I’ve stopped. You can look again.”

She opened her eyes to find Lucifer staring concernedly at her, with worried deep brown eyes looking so unbelievably, reassuringly _human_.

“You’re not scared of me… are you? I know humans lie to protect people’s feelings… but I’d rather you didn’t if…” He fiddled with his shirt cuffs nervously. His eyes were wide, and his mouth parted as his breath sped up. “If you… hate me… if you don’t want to see me again, Detective, I would rather know now. I know I have quite the reputation. But I assure you, everything I’ve ever told you is true. I… I don’t lie. That whole ‘Lord of Lies’ think is pure slander.” He straightened up, pasting a determined and confident look on his face, jaw jutting forwards.

 _Oh God, I frighten him_ , Chloe thought numbly. **_I._** _Frighten. **Him**_. _He’s hurting, he’s being open. I can’t reject him._

“I don’t hate you,” she assured him. “I just… it’s a lot to work through. Still. But, I don’t hate you. And I do want to see you again. I’m glad… glad you were honest with me.”

He smiled at her, relief brightening his face. “That’s good! I’m… so glad, Detective. I worried I’d broken you there for a minute. Even the sight of wings can do that, and my devil face. Or even just my eyes, if I work at it. They’re not so pretty as wings, are they?”

Chloe blinked. “Your scars… you cut off your wings. You really did.”

He nodded. “A finger to the sky for dear old Dad. Proving that I reject the powers and role he assigned me, and I refuse to go back to Hell. I even burnt them.”

“What?”

“My wings – I burnt them on the beach. Once I got them back from that auctioneer. He cried when I went to take them away. I’m not joking about them breaking people. But… you’re strong,” he said, cautiously reaching out to hold her hand, and she let him do so without protest. He gazed at her like she’d hung the moon.

“I’m trying to be.”

“You’re succeeding, admirably!”

“I saw your wings. At the auction. They were gorgeous, but not like looking at…”

 _Hell in your eyes_ , she finished mentally.

He chuckled. “Not that impressive in the end, were they? No, that pair was a fake; their glow was all from strategic spotlights and fiber optics. He couldn’t bear to sell my actual wings, didn’t want to let them out of his sight once he’d seen them. So, he made a relatively convincing copy.”

“Right…” she said softly. “But you had some. White angel wings. And Maze… really cut them off you.”

“You want me to take off my shirt so you can look at the scars again?” he purred, rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand he was still holding, making her shiver. “Do you want to run your hands over my bare back? I’ll let you this time… if you’re gentle with me.”

It made her snort and laugh despite herself. Suddenly he wasn’t a terrifying fallen angel who might snap at any moment, he was just _Lucifer_ , who couldn’t stop flirting for five minutes. A man with celestial-sized daddy issues, an alcohol addiction, a weakness for cool ranch puffs and stolen pudding cups, and a painfully reliable tendency to make every case about himself. None of that had changed.

He’d put his drink down and his newly free hand was toying with the top shirt button on his chest – not undoing it but suggesting that he’d be more than willing to do so with the slightest encouragement.

“Wait! Maze!” she blurted out.

“What? We’re not together sexually. Not that it matters. It’s not like I’m proposing marriage here,” he said puzzledly. “It’s a bit soon for that, right? Humans wait for ages for that these days, so I hear. Not that it seems to slow many of them down. Vows to Dad don’t mean as much as they used to even a century ago.”

“Right,” she said distractedly. “Look, Maze… she’s a demon, isn’t she? I mean, she said she was, once. Forged in hell. She’s a demon?”

“Naturally. Born in hell. One of Lilith’s spawn.”

“Lilith?”

“Long story,” he said, waving a hand dismissively. “What about Maze?”

“She’s with Trixie – she said she’d babysit while I came over. Is Trixie… will Trixie be safe with her?”

Lucifer squeezed her hand reassuringly. “I know she’s a violent creature, but she’d never harm your spawn, Detective. She likes her. Heaven have mercy on anyone who tries to hurt your child, because the forces of hell certainly won’t show any. Your child is safer with Maze – Mazikeen – than with any other being on earth. Except myself, of course.”

“That’s why she’s so awkward with kids… that’s why you are too.”

Lucifer hummed his agreement. “We don’t see many children in hell, and the ones we do see are… unusually disturbing creatures. Demon spawn are more common, and they’re violent, irrational little beasts while they’re growing up. Please don’t tell her I said so, but I think Maze worries about your offspring being so defenseless – so unskilled at fighting. It’d be her doom in hell – other spawn would see it as a weakness and finish her off quickly. Maze and I have millennia of experience in hell, and relatively little on earth, so do try to forgive us if we slip into old habits from time to time. I keep waiting for your child to be grown, and it seems to be taking forever. Everyone says children grow up quickly.”

“Eighteen years.”

“Really? And tell me again how old’s your one now? Two? Five?”

“Eight.” _Boy, he really has no idea how to judge ages, does he?_

“Ten to go, then. That’s not long.”

She went quiet, thinking. For him, it wouldn’t be. He was the Devil. He was an immortal angel.

“I guess that’s why you’re not into serious relationships. For you, they’d be over in the blink of an eye. Does it hurt to lose people?”

He winced and let go of her hand, looking away from her. “I don’t usually get attached like this. I would… I would miss you, Detective.”

“I’d go to heaven?” she tested. “When I die? Or would I not… Oh God. I called God an asshole,” she moaned, slapping her hand to her forehead.

“Well, he is, and I very much appreciated you saying so! But don’t worry, he’s very forgiving with anyone who’s not me. A few curses won’t keep you out of the Silver City. Taking his name in vain is all about perjury and hypocrisy.”

“And if something did offend him? If I sinned too much I’d burn in hell?” she asked, thinking of the fires of Hell she’d seen in Lucifer’s eyes, her breath coming fast.

“If your guilt burdened you too much to admit you to heaven – which I hope it won’t, for your sake – then I’d follow you, rescue you from whatever torturous hell-loop you’d put yourself in, and treat you like my… my friend,” he finished awkwardly.

 _Queen_ , she thought. _Treat you like my queen. Queen of Hell. He’s in love with me. Oh G- Oh my goodness, I think Lucifer’s actually in love with me. Like, **really**_ _in love. I think that might be the closest I’ve even heard him come to a lie. An omission; technically not a lie._

“You want to date me,” she blurted out. “Not just to cross me off your list, right? Me. Why? I’m nothing special.”

“You are to me,” he murmured, gazing at her with a soft smile. “Maybe your lack of attraction to me was just a challenge at the start, but it stopped being that a long time ago. You make me vulnerable. Literally. And you’re… just you. That’s special. You’re a great detective. You’re kind, and brave. Both beautiful and stunning intelligent. Strong. But I don’t know if I’m… worthy of you. You should be with someone… better. Not so tainted. Someone who can be the man you want. I don’t know if I could bear it. But… whatever you want. I just want you to be happy.”

“I… I don’t know what to say.”

“It’s your choice,” Lucifer said. “I mean, I’d prefer you to say, ‘Yes, take me now you sexy beast!’, but I’m happy to settle for anything that’s an upgrade over ‘When Hell freezes over’. Honestly, even ‘Let’s just be friends’ will do nicely.”

Chloe laughed. “Well, I wouldn’t want you to feel obliged to muck around with the meteorological conditions in Hell just for my sake.”

“Is… that a yes?” he asked optimistically, leaning forwards. His rich brown eyes were suddenly startlingly close, and her breath caught as she watched his tongue dart out to lick seductively at his lips.

“No,” she said, and shook her head. He slumped back onto the couch away from her with a sigh.

“But…” she continued, “what you said, it was beautiful. So, I guess it might be… a maybe. One day.”

His lips curled up into another smile. “I like ‘maybe’. I can work with that. So, be honest, you _are_ attracted to me, aren't you? Even though you’re somehow immune to my usual magnetic charms.”

Chloe shrugged embarrassedly. “Well, you’re still uh… very attractive.”

“I’m _delighted_ you think so,” he purred.

“You’re handsome, and I’m sure you know it. I’m still just coming out of a lengthy breakup and divorce though, Lucifer. I don’t want to make the same mistake twice – falling for someone based on looks and some shared interests, and not thinking enough about deeper compatibility and how well our lifestyles and values mesh. Your life is very different to mine, and there’s Trixie to think about,” she explained. “I have to look for someone who’ll fit into my family, not just my bed. It’s not just about sex. Not just for me. I have to think beyond that. You’d even have to get along better with Dan; I’d need someone comfortable co-parenting. Trixie shouldn’t have to see the men in my life at each other’s throats all the time. You’re… a complicated man. With lifestyle choices that don’t seem to mesh well with being a committed partner and a possible step-parent.”

Those were all things she’d thought about before. Thoughts she’d lingered on often while trying to sternly remind herself why exactly letting Lucifer talk her into his bed was a bad idea. When he was looking at her particularly seductively. When she’d glimpsed him naked or in a robe. When the nights were long and her bed was cold and empty, like it had been for many lonely months. Now there was the added complication of him being _an immortal fallen angel_ to add to the mix. She could cross off ‘Don’t sleep with crazy people’ from her determined list of reasons not to have sex with Lucifer, but she’d have to add a bunch of _new_ reasons to go slow and careful. She didn’t even know what to think about what all that meant yet, so it was easier to talk about her older reasons to say no.

He nodded, slow and thoughtful. “I never thought about any of that. Yes… I see now.”

“Do you really?”

“I think so, but honestly, I’ll want to talk it over with Linda. Human interactions can sometimes be a bit of a mystery to me. She helps me make sense of all the modern complexities.”

“Downgrading your own yes to a maybe?”

“No! It’s still a yes!” he hurried to reassure her. “But… I don’t think I could be exactly like Detective Douche. Not even for you. I’m… still myself. I can’t be someone I’m not. There would be compromises I’d be open to, however, for the sake of your spawn, and yourself of course.”

“Like?”

He looked thoughtful. “…Less drugs?” he offered tentatively, looking at her for approval.

“How about no drugs?”

“Does alcohol count?”

“I suppose not. Though I’m not keen on you drinking around Trixie or at the station either.”

“Hmm. How about no drugs around you or Beatrice, or at your home, on cases, or at the station, and no drinking before lunch?”

She sighed. “Well, it would be an improvement. It’s a good place to start.”

He sighed too. “Winning you over is going to take a lot of work, isn’t it?”

Chloe shrugged, with a false show of unconcern. “There’s always the Britneys, if I’m too much effort.”

He brightened up. “Yes, they’ll keep me entertained while I’m working on this. That’s a good thought.”

Chloe’s head jerked in disbelief. “What? You wouldn’t stay faithful while dating me?”

“Ooh! Are we dating, now?!”

“No, but that’s not the point! You would keep sleeping around? Is monogamy in a relationship even an option you’re considering?”

He looked honestly bewildered. “I thought you didn’t want to get married? You agreed it was too soon.”

“Lucifer, you can be faithful to someone without being married!”

He smiled indulgently. “So they say, in these modern times, but I’ve never seen any evidence of it. No, if there’s no promises, no sacred vow, there’s nothing truly holding two people together. That’s what marriage _is_ , Detective. Chloe. It is simply a promise to be faithful to each other and to put each other first. Even that is flimsy for humans – it doesn’t bind many of them as it should. Like it used to. Like it would for me.”

“You… wouldn’t be faithful to me unless we were married,” she checked, drawing the words out slowly, tasting them for truth. They felt true, and Lucifer, after all, never lied.

“I wouldn’t expect you to be sexually faithful either,” he hastened to add, as if equity was the real issue of concern. It sounded like his best guess at what had upset her. “However, I’d always put you first. I always do. If you call and say you need me, I drop whatever – or whoever – I’m doing. For you. Or we could share, if you like. You could pick who to invite into our bed.”

“I… appreciate the thought,” Chloe said carefully. He _was_ trying, and she had to remember he wasn’t human; hadn’t lived much amongst humans and didn’t always get the culture. It explained a lot of eccentricities, now she knew that. “However, I’d want you to not sleep with anyone else if we were seriously dating.”

“But… what if we weren’t having sex very often? What if someone deeply desired to sleep with me?” he asked, sounding genuinely confused and not in the slightest like he was trying to tease her. “What if I made a deal, and it included sex? What if they _needed_ me?”

“You’d have to uh… self-entertain. And not sleep with anyone else, even if they really wanted you to.”

“Sounds like marriage…” he muttered, brow creasing.

“With dating, you can quit the relationship more easily, if it doesn’t work out. Marriage is a commitment. Or it should be.”

“It isn’t any more,” Lucifer argued, waving his hand dismissively. “Divorce is a simple matter now.”

“Is it too much for you?” Chloe asked seriously. “This is the fire in my own eyes, Lucifer. Not as fierce as yours, but it’s enough to put a lot of people off. I’m a single mother with a lot of expectations about what a real relationship means. It requires emotional commitment and work, not just a lot of sex. I have baggage. Not anything like yours, not _nearly_ as bad but it’s there; I have a painful past too. If I was just looking for casual sex I would’ve fallen into your arms and your bed ages ago, even sober.

“You know, even without your whole Lucifer-ness it would still be a messy, complicated relationship. Add in what apparently is a cosmically mind-blowing age-difference and your own incredible background, and things are going to be difficult. There’s no way around that. If you want something easier, with someone else… I’d understand. It would be easier for both of us. There’s a reason – plenty of reasons – that I haven’t said ‘yes’ to you.”

Lucifer nodded slowly. “I see. I expect you’re right. But you’re not scaring me off that easily. I think you’re worth the effort, you see. If my attentions are welcome?”

“Tentatively,” Chloe said, with a growing smile. “It’s still a ‘maybe’, but I’m willing to work on possibly changing it to a ‘yes’. So… where do you want to go from here?”

Lucifer cocked his head, as he thought. He finished off his whiskey and set the empty glass aside. “I think I’ll ask Detective Douche out for a drink.”

Chloe blinked, and her jaw dropped. “Well… I did _not_ see that coming.”

“Oh! No, not on a date,” Lucifer said, with a laugh. “You’ve been quite clear you’re not interested in a threesome with your ex. But all the same I think I might mend fences with… Dan. He’s been odd lately; strangely polite but also nervous. I think perhaps he’s trying to make friends? He said I can share his pudding cups any time if I chip in some money occasionally. He’s been very annoying, taking all the fun out of it. Say, does he know about me, Detective? Is he a believer like you, now?”

“I… no. I don’t think so. We’ve been chatting about you lately but… with metaphors. Has he said anything odd lately that suggested he might believe you’re really Lucifer?”

Lucifer hummed thoughtfully. “Not particularly. The last conversation we had _was_ odd, though. He asked why I call him ‘Detective Douche’ all the time. He wanted to know what he’d done to make me think so poorly of him on first acquaintance. So, I talked about how when I first met him he was being a neglectful parent to Trixie and arguing with you in front of her, putting you down, and making you both distressed. And how being a corrupt cop who gaslit you for months instead of supporting you about Palmetto in the face of bullying hadn’t significantly changed my opinion of him since then, despite some occasional moments of him displaying finer qualities. He got rather upset then – almost tearful – and rambled apologetically and boringly about the difficulties of being a divorced father, said some confusing things about Malcolm, and then offered me a deal.”

“Oh dear…” Chloe murmured worriedly. ‘Deal with the Devil’ had suddenly just become a nerve-wracking literal phrase to her. What had Dan guiltily bargained away in a fit of sympathetic worry about triggering Lucifer’s presumed – or actual – memories of childhood abuse? Her eyes widened in panic.

“Don’t worry,” Lucifer said, patting her hand reassuringly. “I’m not going to sleep with your ex, he didn’t even ask for that, or even for one of my legendary blow-jobs. It was a simple deal we shook on, and a fair one for all concerned. He promised to try to be a more respectful father and ex, and in return I simply have to use his name more, and only call him a douche if he’s displaying poor behavior at that moment. Like being called a ‘bad boy’ for misbehaving but less kinky and more slanted towards reminding him to be a better father and ex-husband.”

Chloe’s breath whooshed out in relief. “That sounds good. Harmless, and potentially helpful. Right. So, what exactly did you want to talk to him about over drinks?” She might need to brace Dan if Lucifer was going to hit him with a lot of Devil-talk.

“I thought I might talk about your expectations. Specifically, what might be expected of me in a step-parent role, and how suited I might be to that. It seems important to you? It was pretty much the first thing you mentioned, and I don’t know much about how to interact with children in general, and Beatrice in particular. I can’t be Dan, and I don’t want to be, especially since you left him in the end. But I could join the School of Dan, and see what he has to teach me. He must have _some_ useful insights into parenting and how to make you happy, even if it’s only examples of what _not_ to do.”

Chloe leaned over and gently kissed him on the lips. Lucifer moaned into her mouth, reaching out to clasp her to him with eager hands. His tongue delved eagerly into her mouth as his broad hands pressed firmly against her back, pulling her against his hard chest. She drew back after a couple of passionate kisses, heart beating fast, and he gently let her go, his hands trailing away against her sides.

“Mmm! Have I been a good boy, Detective? Lucifer, stay. Good devil.”

She grinned. “Yes. Please stay. I know you care for me, and I know you care for Trixie too, or you wouldn’t have worried about her being sad and neglected because she didn’t get the new doll she wanted. There’s potential there, I know there is. Everything else – that’s just details, and since you’re prepared to put the effort in to try and make this work, so am I.”

“Well, I’m certainly glad to hear I’m not the only one expected to make some changes,” Lucifer said. “Now, shall we work on that list of your preferred kinks?”

“Oh god,” groaned Chloe, burying her face in her hands in embarrassment.

Lucifer huffed. “It’s important! Detective… Chloe,” he corrected, his voice softening to a loving murmur, “you have to remember that I can’t sense your desires, I can’t draw them out. I have to _guess_ whether it’s appropriate to let you stop kissing me, or whether deep down you’d rather I rip your clothes off in a fit of passion, or simply start mouthing that delectable neck of yours. Now, I don’t have many hard and fast rules of my own, but I do have a few. Rule one: no mentioning dear old Dad in bed. It ruins the mood when a partner calls out Dad’s name instead of mine. ‘Oh Lucifer’, ‘Yes’, ‘More please’, and ‘Fuck’ are all acceptable alternatives.”

Chloe lowered her hands slowly and gave him a considering look. “Oh. I never thought about that. You use your desire mojo in bed, don’t you?”

He nodded. “No-one leaves my bed – or various other locales – unsatisfied. I give my partners the best night of their lives. But with you, I’ll have to _guess_ ,” he said, his brow furrowing with concern. “So, a brutally open and honest list of what you prefer during sex is important to me. No holding back.”

Chloe closed her eyes for a moment to gather her fortitude, then gave him a shy look, brushing a stray lock of blonde hair behind her ear. “Alright, yes, I can do that. It’s uncomfortable, but a reasonable request.”

Lucifer’s smile was bright with delight. “You do realize you essentially admitted you’re planning to sleep with me at some point?”

Chloe laughed. “Well, you did say open and honest. I can’t deny I’m tempted, so I suppose we should be prepared in case I give in. And I… care about you too, Lucifer. You’re not the only one who should have to make a few mental adjustments. Relationships take work from both sides.”

He carefully reached over to curl an arm around her, slowly like she was a wild animal he didn’t want to spook, and as she leaned her head against his shoulder he let out a tiny contented sigh and kissed the top of her head, soft as a butterfly. “Excellent. Now, let’s talk PDAs and preferred foreplay, for starters.”

 _Oh boy. Mental adjustments_ , she thought, as she avoided eye contact while outlining exactly when and where public hand-holding and kisses would be acceptable, and what public touching would _not_ be allowed, since it appeared they were most likely going to give dating a try.

_A bit of sex talk is **nothing** compared to having to wrap my mind around dating the actual Devil. But… I think I can do this. He thinks I’m worth it, and I think he is too._


End file.
